Installation view of Marcus Vincent’s work in Losing Ground at Finch Lane Gallery. Image by Geoff Wichert.

Nancy Steele-Makasci shares the Front Gallery at Finch Lane with Marcus Vincent in a group show titled Losing Ground. Their work is introduced by one of the longest statements I’ve ever seen on a gallery wall, which makes among the most complete summaries I’ve yet seen concerning the deplorable state of affairs in these dis-United States. I recommend it to anyone who wishes to grasp the symptoms and their connections concerning the state of the nation. What it didn’t do, for me at least, was in any way elucidate the work of these two fine artists. Steele-Makasci’s contribution to Losing Ground has more to do with the inherent defects of gender roles as they are assigned in America, which is a matter not so much of loss as inadequate progress having been made. Marcus Vincent’s extraordinary approach to color did put me in mind of something UVU Art History Professor Courtney R. Davis wrote about his works: that, “They don’t demand our attention with flashing scrolling marques, interactive touchscreens, or social-political-conceptual statements on the state of modern life.”

In other words, I was not wrong to question how their bold and accurate statement relates to these two artists’ artwork in Losing Ground. I only bring this up in answer to anyone who visited their show and wondered why, or even how, I ignored their words while contemplating their art.

Marcus Vincent’s may very well be the purest use of paint in art making that I’ve ever encountered. I urge viewers to ignore anything they may have read about cultural practices or schools of art that may have influenced him. They should go to see his work as unprepared as possible; just walk through Finch Lane and stand before his panels. Allow them to strike the eye and evoke whatever response they may. What they will encounter are surfaces covered with paint applied without a representational plan or purpose, other than to explore how the colors play out and how they affect the mind and emotions. There will be innovative use of opaque and transparent paints that may be as original today as Leonardo’s were in his day. Artists’ materials, on the other hand, have come a long way since da Vinci’s day, and there will be textures and reflective characteristics probably not seen before by most, if not any, in the audience. The resulting colors will have a presence that may be unique in the viewer’s experience. They were in mine. We should remember how often someone in our presence has puzzled over what it would be like to see a color never seen before.

Marcus Vincent, “Breaking Up,” 2022, oil, wax on linen on cradled panel, 18×20 in.

Marcus Vincent, “Once There Was,” 2022, oil, wax on linen on cradled panel

After this initial experience, anyone still wanting to know more about Vincent’s art should consider this: in his formative years, he was drawn to architecture, an art form that takes space as its principal subject. If a viewer perceives a spatial dimension in some or all of these paintings, they should go with it. It’s an essential skill in the perception and gauging of art to be open to whatever its experience evokes in the viewer. Space in painting was rejected by a handful of critics in the middle of the 20th century, on the grounds that a flat canvas and thin layers of paint should produce a flat impression. Unfortunately for them, countless generations of living things have learned to perceive and judge space as a matter of survival, in consequence of which our eyes and brains will seek out and interpret the visual clues to the space around us, even when what we’re seeing is actually flat.

If there’s a link in Marcus Vincent’s painting to the state of the world, it will be in these two realms: color and depth. The pleasure they give the viewer is a fundamental part of the human experience. There are other things in art, but none more essential.

Losing Ground: Nancy Steele-Makasci & Marcus Vincent, Finch Lane Gallery, Salt Lake City, through Nov. 15 with receptions  Friday, October 18, 6-9pm and Friday, November 15, 6-9 pm.

Geoff Wichert

Geoff Wichert objects to the term critic. He would rather be thought of as a advocate on behalf of those he writes about.